The Way She Said LA
by SuperKateB
Summary: Jordan takes a walk to visit the ghosts of her previous life, back in L.A. Pretty much fluff. Songfic, post-ep "You Really Got Me."


Woody had joked, light-heartedly enough, that Los Angeles brought out the worst in her. 

What he didn't know, she thought to herself as she watched his back retreat into the crowd after  
blowing him a kiss goodbye, was how right he was.

**"The Way She Said 'L.A"  
A Crossing Jordan Fanfiction  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
(Song by Spitalfield)**

_Say the things you say,  
and you're dreaming like you do -  
You know, sometimes, circles run around you._

The city always appeared deceptively warm. Warm and welcoming, with its palm fronds that swayed  
in every tiny breeze and its tanned inhabitants, but the truth was that the nights, they were cold. Not  
as cold as, say, Boston, Massachusetts in the dead of winter, but still chilly enough that her stylish  
tank top and well-worn jeans left her just bare enough that a chill ran up and down her spine.

She unwrapped the sweater from around her waist and tugged it over her head, burying her hands in  
her pockets.

Surprisingly, the warmth of the wool did nothing for her chill.

_Hey now, let's be honest,  
I really think its true -  
You know, sometimes, we all bend the rules._

Old habits, like old heartbreaks, die hard. Her heels clicked against pavement as she ran her fingers  
along the familiar wrought iron railing, paint chips flaking away even from such a gentle contact. She  
frowned and brushed her fingers on her pants, though no residue remained there.

Her brown eyes glanced up, focusing on a single light that still shone on the fourth floor. A shadow  
moved across the glowing yellow window and she pressed herself against the railing, the metal cold  
against her skin.

The shadow faded as quickly as it had come, and she exhaled heavily, her breath crystallizing on air.

Yes, old habits died hard.

_You run the life,  
you've been around, you love to live to hate this town,  
And I hope and dream just like you do._

The corner pub bustled with activity as it always had, and bawdy Irish folksongs played by an  
in-house pianist and backed by a small grouping of well-inebriated men echoed into the street.  
She leaned against the bicycle rack as she often had in the years before, staring at the trio of  
overweight beer junkies as they stumbled together in a clumsy kick line.

Joe, Frank, and Henry. The names appeared in the back of her mind suddenly,  
and a nauseating wave of reminiscence followed it. She'd tried to play off her time in the city as  
horrible, unforgivable, and miserable, but the bitter truth remained that some moments were far  
from that.

How many nights had she leaned against the bicycle rack before heading back to her apartment,  
watching her friends dance together in the back of the bar after their long discussions about her  
hopes, wonders, and dreams?

She pushed herself away from the cool metal and moved towards the door.

_Yeah, we've been here twice before;  
You want it to mean so much more,  
And I hope that everything goes through_

"Jordan Cavanaugh! It's been too long. Buy you a beer?"

She smiled - a slight gesture, only the smallest curvature of the lips - and straddled a stool, shaking  
her head. "I'm not staying," she informed the bartender, a plump fifty-something proud of his wife,  
kids, and grandkids. "I just wanted to stop in, for old times' sake."

"Old times, indeed." He leaned heavily on the bar, his wrinkle-rimmed eyes watching her intently as  
she purloined a few honey-roasted peanuts from the nearest bowl. "You just disappeared on us,  
one day, and that was it. No forwarding address or anything." He winked. "I thought maybe Joe or  
Frank scared you off, once and for all."

She winked back. "You should know I don't scare so easily."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean we enjoyed seeing you go. How's it been?"

She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, finishing the gesture by helping herself to a few  
more nuts. "I moved back," she explained with a half-shrug, licking off her slightly-sticky fingers. There  
was no reaction, and she arched an eyebrow. "You don't seem surprised."

The barkeep shrugged, reaching for a rag. He wiped up a condensation ring casually. "I expected it  
eventually, hearing all your stories," he admitted without much pause, as though their topic was the  
weather. "Not to mention that you never seemed one for long goodbyes."

"Yes, well..." She smiled sadly and glanced away, at the raucous kick liners.

"And the maple sapling? What came of him?"

Maple sapling. Her heart leapt suddenly, the reference a dagger in her stomach. He'd been tall,  
trembling, and so the nickname meant sense, especially to her less-than-diplomatic pub friends.

She took another fistful of nuts. "I have a plane to catch tomorrow," she said plainly, sliding from  
her stool. "Tell the guys when they sober up that I came by, said 'hi.'"

"Alright, Jordan." There was a certain, inexplicable sadness in his voice. She patted his hand  
gently. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"Of course."

_She goes to California, oh,  
California's not so far.  
When I close my eyes and wonder where you are,  
And you wish upon a star,  
Two thousand miles doesn't seem so far._

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she emerged onto the street, the air crisp and cold on her  
face when compared to the balmy temperature within the pub. She hugged herself gently, rubbing  
her arms. A cool breeze blew down the street, tossing a few discarded papers here and there,  
but never in her path.

The city was silent. When had it ever been silent? In her mind, it always hustled and bustled,  
filled with energy and light, people rushing across streets and down alleys with reckless abandon.

Of course, this was not the same neighborhood as it had been, then. Then, the apartment  
buildings were well-kept and the lights always on, the railings shining with fresh  
coats of paint. It had been warm, happy, contenting, and now...

But that was then. Before Boston. Before her return home. Before -

"Jordan?"

_You play the games you play,  
You win, sometimes, you lose -  
You know, sometimes, walls run into you._

She whirled around on her heel and nearly slipped in a divot between sidewalk slabs. A  
strong hand caught her wrist and she snapped forward again, blinking. Familiar blue eyes  
gazed down at her, large and surprised, and she found herself backing up as an automatic  
reaction.

The hand held her fast.

"Jordan, it's so good to see you!" he announced merrily, releasing her wrist just long enough  
to envelop her in a tight hug. She swallowed the lump in her throat, along with a hardy helping  
of her own pride, and loosely patted him back, an awkward gesture. "You never called."

"Yeah, Tom, guess not." She raked a hand through her hair as he released her, forcing herself  
to smile widely, optimistically. The smile almost worked, and for a moment, she felt as though  
being there, on the street, in his presence, was a positive state of being. "So, uhm, how you been?  
California still the land of excitement for you and your ilk?"

He chuckled, shrugging slightly. "Being an EMS is still not a bad job, no," he replied, warmly  
patting her arm. She jerked a few inches at the contact and he sighed, relinquishing her personal  
space. His smile dimmed several watts. "The neighborhood's gotten a bit less pleasant, as you can  
see. The old landlord sold most the block and moved up to a better part of town." He shook his  
head, as though lamenting the cracked sidewalk and peeling paint. "But what about you? How have  
you been?"

Her phone stopped buzzing.

_Now, you've got me thinking,  
And I really think it's true,  
The sun shines, sometimes, just for you_

The temptation to spill every last detail of the last few years nearly overwhelmed her.

'I'm fine, all things considered. I'm no closer to finding my mother's murderer, but then again, I'm  
not sure it matters, given that my father has disappeared and the half-brother that I recently  
discovered killed himself only a few days after, you know, shooting a police officer. I've nearly lost  
my job more times than I can count, and I can't hold on to a steady boyfriend for the life of me. In  
fact, the only man in my life other than my closet-case coworkers and anal-retentive boss tried to kiss  
me not twenty-four hours ago, and guess what I did? I sent him on a plane to Florida for a Kinks  
concert. And then, when I should have gone to bed, I wandered out here just in hopes of getting  
a single glimpse of you, because I can't come to L.A. without seeing you.'

His eyes watched her cautiously, as though she would explode at any minute, a ticking time-bomb  
with a fuse reaching 00:00.

"I've been alright," she smiled, knowing far well that she was lying through her teeth. "Busy, but alright."

_You run the life,  
you've been around, you love to live to hate this town,  
And I hope and dream just like you do._

The rest of the conversation barely registered, meaningless, contrite, and useless in the grand scheme of  
things, and she drummed her fingers against the cell phone in her pocket as she listened to him talk. He  
remained, to this day, tall and thin, trembling slightly in the breeze, a ridiculous sapling of a man.  
Comparatively, he made the physique of one Nigel Townsend - long-time record-holder for the thinnest  
person Garret had ever even considered hiring, let alone kept on payroll - look like that of a body-builder.

Suddenly, the droning voice stopped and she blinked her brown eyes. Either exhaustion was setting in,  
or the smog was worse than she'd imagined. She wiped the painful tears away with her sleeve and  
asked, "I'm sorry, what?"

He smiled again. He always smiled, even at the strangest times. "Have you ever considered moving back?"  
he repeated, his pale eyebrows arched high. Expectant. Hopeful.

She snorted slightly. "To L.A.?" The word tumbled clumsily off her tongue, sounding jarred and forced,  
as though she'd spoken a foreign language for the first time after years of disuse. "Honestly, I don't think  
I could if I wanted to. It's been a long time."

"Not too long, though," he suggested. She could hear the optimism in his voice. The wistful thinking.

Curiosity killed dreams as easily as felines, it seemed, and she shook her head slowly in response.

"Far too long."

_Yeah, we've been here twice before;  
You want it to mean so much more,  
And I hope that everything goes through_

Her phone buzzed a second time in her pocket as she watched his back, his limber, lanky form  
retreating into the wind. Her fingers were nearly numb as she fumbled with her cell and flipped it open.

"Cavanaugh."

"Jordan! Where the Hell are you?" Woody's familiar, if brash, greeting caused her to pull the  
phone away from her ear, lest her hearing be permanently damaged. Somewhere in the background,  
she could hear a squealing guitar riff and the subtle roar of a small, if enthusiastic crowd. "I've been  
calling your hotel room for an hour, and nothing!"

She gritted her teeth slightly. "I...took a walk," she answered after a beat, tucking her free hand into  
her back pocket. "After all the karaoke, I was a bit wound up. Needed to get it out of my system."

"Well, I'm glad you answered! Listen to THIS!"

She couldn't help but smile as the Kinks - Woody's declared favorite band in the history of the  
known universe - picked up with the chorus of "You've Really Got Me."

_She goes to California, oh,  
California's not so far.  
When I close my eyes and wonder where you are,  
And you wish upon a star,  
Two thousand miles doesn't seem so far._

"I just wanted to thank you."

The applause in the background faded into Woody's voice, and she found herself leaning  
against the peeling-paint railing, her teeth chattering in the almost unseasonable cold. "What  
for? I promised you wouldn't miss the concert, and you didn't. Nothing worth thanking me for,  
there."

"Not just for that. For, well, being yourself. For not killing me on this trip, even when I  
deserved it. For everything." He paused for the briefest of moments. "...you are going to be  
in Boston when I get back, right?"

Jordan snorted, rolling her eyes. "Of course, Woody," she reassured him, tilting her head  
back to glance up at the sky. Even in the lights of the city and the thick smog, she could still see  
the faint glimmer of a few silver stars. "What, did you think I'd stay in a city that makes me  
miserable just to spurn you?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

She laughed, shaking her head. In her mind's eye, the stars were as bright here as in Boston,  
shining and warm, in a city still alive, still vibrant, still functioning. In her mind's eye, the world  
revolved as she remembered it, clockwise and regular, without unexpected trips or unnecessary  
obstacles.

"I'll see you back at home, right?"

Jordan smiled.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

**Fin.**

Disclaimer: Crossing Jordan does not belong to me, but rather, to NBC. "I Loved The Way She  
Said 'L.A.'" does not belong to me, but the band Spitalfield.

Author's Notes: So, I was DJing tonight for a school dance and Spitalfield's "I Loved the Way She  
Said 'L.A.'" was one of the songs. And to make matters better (or worse?), it made me think of  
Jordan and her trip to L.A. in "You've Really Got Me." So, guess what? We got a fic out of it.

This is my first non-slash CJ fic. And my first posted CJ fic. God, I'm a dweeb.

Oh, and bragging rights: I went to high school with half of "Spitalfield." I win. ;P

February 19, 2005  
12:24 a.m.


End file.
